


the dalliance of a god

by galient



Series: allyship born from tragedy [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bows & Arrows, Complicated Relationships, Conversations, Developing Friendships, Drabble, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galient/pseuds/galient
Summary: George had met him that morning with his bow and arrows wrapped around his person, the wood warped with magenta of enchantment. Fundy would grab his own once instructed, although his soft confusion and puzzlement was dismissed as soon as he expressed it. The brunette gave him a pat on the arm, leather cuffed wrists brushing against the cloth."Let's go do some shooting practice. I know a place away from here."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & GeorgeNotFound
Series: allyship born from tragedy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174820
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	the dalliance of a god

The mountains drew dark shadows on the ground, the early sunlight painting an outline of leaves and the layers of trees created a thick barrage. The field of shimmering golden grass stretched far beyond the eye can see, pushed back by feet carried through it. 

The wind blows gently around him, pulling a low whistle from his throat. Slender fingers fiddle with the leather strap around his chest, his quiver hanging low on his back. 

"Pretty sweet view." Fundy voices into the crisp air, gripping the edges of his coat that twirl around his feet and brushes against his chin. 

"Yeah." George says, turning his head to look out over the field, black tinted lenses shining in the light. The grass rooted at their feet caves under their steps, and the two men walk in silence to the clearing. 

The blue sky is littered with wisps of clouds, conflating as the wind blows it away. The night before George would give Fundy a glance as he passed by, a low whisper under his breath directing him to meet with him the next morning. The fox hybrid didn't question his intentions, but with a taut jaw he burrowed in a coat and a wrinkled white button up. He woke up when the sky burnt pink and blue dipped her fingers in its pool, let the dawn drip onto the horizon until the sun washed away its colors and left a cool blue over his eyes. 

George had met him that morning with his bow and arrows wrapped around his person, the wood warped with the magenta of enchantment. Fundy would grab his own once instructed, although his soft confusion and puzzlement was dismissed as soon as he expressed it. The brunette gave him a pat on the arm, leather cuffed wrists brushing against the cloth. 

"Let's go do some shooting practice. I know a place away from here." 

Maybe Fundy was foolish, letting someone who was once his enemy lead him to a secluded area, but the quiet resolution of the dark haired boy wavered his curiosity. The events that had recently been stirred up had finally come to an end, and the resentful fire in Fundy still burned. The dark shade of Pandora's Vault was seared into his mind, the remembrance of someone who he had once loved was tainted with hatred for the monster that took away everything he ever thought he had. 

With lithe fingers, Fundy pulls back the string with the bend of his arrow cocked for the thousandth time. The fletching brushes against the skin under his eyes, poised on the striped target with familiar holes puncturing it. 

"How'd you find this place?" Fundy questions quietly, letting the arrow fly into the spray-painted hay bale. 

"Dream showed it to me." George replies, voice carrying a soft lilt of thought. He rolled his shoulders, long fingers gripping his arrow and loading it into the bow. 

Fundy looks away from the dark haired male, pulling his arms back and shrugging off the heavy black of his cloak. "Will you visit him?" He watches George let loose the metal tipped arrow from his bow. 

The sun against his skin spring beads of sweat down the surface of his back, and he folds his sleeves back on his forearms. 

George hums, swings his bow back around his shoulder and steps backwards, beckoning him forward for his turn. "Eventually. I think you will too, won't you?" Fundy isn't sure, pinches his eyebrows together and looks at his companion. 

"What makes you think that?" He asks, furred ears twitch in annoyance. He steps forward, bounces the weapon in his hand to get a grip for it, fiddling with limbs curve. George shifts on his feet, leaning on his hip to the side as he lifts his eyes to the thicket. 

"You aren't someone to let go easily. You and Dream have that in common." George voices into the sudden silence, blithe nonchalance carrying into the swirling air. The brunette grasps at the collar of his shirt, pulling the tightened blue from his neck and grunting in discomfort. 

Fundy pulls back his elbows, training his eyes back on the red striped target tacked with hastily crafted arrows from the past hour. The shaft of the arrow hums against the scraped wood of his nock as its released. He huffs out of his nose as it pierces the edge of the target, wiping sweat off the bend of his brow. 

Fundy ponders over his words, licks his lips and feels the leather grip groan under his tightening fingers. "You know, I never forgave you for what you did." He murmurs, uses his other hand to tip the bill of his hat out of his sight. 

George shrugs, "I never apologized." 

The ginger feels his lips tug into a bittersweet smile, the ache in his arms strain against soft cloth bunched in the inside of his elbows. In the end, it hadn't really mattered, it's been years since Fundy had held even a bit of resentment towards George, just the acknowledgement of each other was enough for their relationship to stay potent. 

Lots of things had happened since then, and now Fundy could appreciate the mans consistency by living through events by neutral means. Such anger the fox harbored dimmed under his skin in George's presence, carried by his neutrality and mutual respect. The first wars has long since passed, and even so George had now have had to grown. 

"He didn't deserve you, you know." George says, quiet. Fundy pulls his face into his own nonchalance, looking at the dark haired male heavily. George doesn't look back, just draws his arrow back on the bowstring, feathers dusting against the edge of his chin. 

"No one ever does." Fundy chippers, leaning back on his heels to observe the fast blur of George's arrow fly. 

A sharp laugh echoes in the land, airy but real. George pivots on his feet and lands a quick slap to his arm, rare smile curving his face. "You distracted me." 

The arrow was buried in the tree behind the bale of hay, missing the target narrowly. Its bark nicked away from past arrows set loose. 

"Don't blame me for your own mistakes." Fundy narrows dark eyes on him, playful confidence painting a slight grin. George huffs, tired hands come up to lift the white rims of his goggles, exposing his eyes to the air. 

"Whatever," he says "I need a break anyway." 

Their erstwhile presence occupies the field where conversations last until their voices feel rough in their throats and they run out of things to say. The sun beats down on them until clouds blur its light and shadows veer according to the times consideration. 

The log they sit on is marked with carvings from a dagger, something Fundy can tell was a long time ago. 

When he voices a question about them, George looked at him sullenly. "Dream and Alyssa loved drawing things in the wood. They always said that it was something permanent, even if it got destroyed. Never quite knew what they meant." 

Fundy hums, looks out over the golden grass field and to the mountains blanketed by green trees. "You know he deserves it, right?" He says simply, hears George's hand guard rake against the wooden surface of their seat. 

"The things he's done, everything he's caused." Fundy states, "The Dream we miss doesn't exist anymore. He deserves to rot in that prison." 

Silence rests between them, like how the sun licks at their skin and how arrows spill blood in their targets. 

"I know." George replies, solemn, but for the first time Fundy looks at him and he understands. The cracked lips that tilt into an awkward smile as his gaze lies on him, and the dark eyes that match his own shine with the same emotion. 

So, Fundy scoots to the floor, digs out a dull arrow from his quiver and holds it out shakily to the older boy. George stares at his hand clasping the belly of the bolt, and Fundy shifts his fingers to hold it like a pen, sinking the tip of the metal head into the pliable wood beneath them. 

"I know." 

George glances up at the boy, a smile imbued on his pleasant face as realization dawns on him. He grabs the arrow, twirling it in his hand wobbly before leaning down and writing into the old log drawn in bittersweet memories of the old. 

Fundy grins. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written George before, so hopefully hes not too out of character. Fundy is someone I've pondered quite alot on, including both his character and irl self, so even if he is out of character maybe it was on purpose.
> 
> George and Fundys friendship has never been touched on before in canon, so I supposed I could make a couple fics dedicated to them and their relations to eachother. Dream connected them both, with having both having had 'romantic' endeavors with each. Though the wedding, or Dream and Fundys relationship was never canonically included in DSMP, I really wanted to see what would happen if it would.
> 
> Here Dream and Fundy would have had romantic relations far before the first lmanburg war, and they wouldnt have talked about George 'stealing' him ever, and that way Fundy never would have gotten closure. George hasn't either, Dream is in prison and George still loved him. Fundy understands him like no one else.


End file.
